The Insane One
by Meggido
Summary: As the Eleventh fell on Trenzalore rose the Twelfth, the Insane One. So insane maybe he will not be able to face the oncoming threat... [ Potential serie 8 ]
1. Chapter 1 - On the Fields of Trenzalore

_(Oooookay so… I've started a thing… it's a weird thing really and I don't even know if it's worth something… but well, here it is. So ! The Insane One, chapter one. I'm going back to the last episode of serie 7, Name of the Doctor, because I found it to be rather not coherent in many ways. Mine might seem weird but really you'll see many things will be explained along the fic (or you won't see because you won't read it, WHICH I UNDERSTAND because I don't know how to be concise). So here we go. If you do read it, well, thank you so much, I am not sure I deserve it but really thank you !)_

**Chapter One : On the Fields of Trenzalore**

_"On the fields of Trenzalore, at the fall of the eleventh, when no living creature can speak falsely or fail to answer, a question will be asked, a question that must never, ever be answered." _

These days there seemed to be a prophecy about everything, especially if it involved the Doctor dying, and from experience, none of these precognitions could be ran away from. He tried, of course. He has always been the one that ran away, after all, the one who never stopped running from one promised land to another, never finding the right place, never settling down, because it was so scary he could not handle it. Days and days of loneliness, of being the unseen god no one will ever thank, ages and eons of wandering around this extraordinary universe and there he was, soon to land on the fields on Trenzalore to meet his own death.

There was many reasons to such a decision actually. None of them were as brilliant as they should have been, none of them could explain why he was risking Clara's life in such an endeavour, none except this feeling inside that kept on crawling through his limbs, whispering echoes of a future that ended in Trenzalore. It is more than time, said the voice. You have to let go. You have to pass it on. The Eleventh will fall but soon shall rise the Twelfth. For whatever reason, he was not too pleased with the idea but then again, there was no fighting against this instinct of his. You can destroy or hide many things but ideas ? Ideas survive whatever you do with them.

He did not tell Clara where they were going and why. He could not reasonably tell her that he was visiting his own grave, something no time traveller should ever do, just because something in his heart was whispering about death and the absolute necessity of a fall.

Just like he expected, for once, there were no braking sounds, no resistance at all. The Tardis should have been reluctant to land on such a territory but as she told him one day, she always took him where he needed to go. Even she knew it was time.

He smiled to Clara, his heart softened by the certitude he would not be alone. Of course, he barely knew her and did not trust her at all, she was not his first choice to die with but at least, she was someone. He would not die lonely. And that was the only thing that mattered at this very instant between life and death. She followed him outside the Tardis, silence as the grave ; he did not look at her more than a second. All around them was a landscape of pure horror and despair, a graveyard like none other, because the one and only tomb it held was his. A gigantic Tardis, monstrously inflated to its real dimensions lied in the horizont and he found himself fancying the image. His remains sheltered in his oldest friend, his most faithful companion.

He did not answer Clara as she asked him in an anxious voice where they were heading and why they were, as if he did not hear her or did not want to. She kept on asking about this enormous Tardis, about their desolated surroundings, about the silence that reigned around them. Oh, yes, the Silence... Silence must fall. Well, Silence would, that the Doctor was sure of. It was not the main reason he took the road to this cursed place but it certainly was a motive. The fall of the Silence was important. Why would they fall if his name was said, he did not know and was curious to find out.

As he walked to his grave, it seemed to him that all of his old ennemies were staring at him. Or sort of staring, since some of them did not have eyes. Illusions of the past came to feast on his demise : that image, too, was kind of cool. He made sure his bowtie – the coolest one, of course – was in place. It was a shame Clara found his fez and hid it to make sure he would never wear it anymore but, as he thought in a sad smile, he would never wear it again anyway. The last hours of the Eleventh.

Oh, he liked himself like this. He would miss himself. Probably.

- Doctor ! Are you even listening to me ?

He turned back to Clara who stopped walking, her fists on her hips, lips pinched, eyes widened. She was afraid – and that was only natural.

- Why are we going there ? You said you should never go to your grave. And this... this Great Intelligence we met, that is where they want you. They want to kill you.

- Well, you know. Lots of people do. No big deal, eh ? You know they always miss.

She did not answer but it was not so difficult to see she did not believe him. She did not trust him – how could she ? Their relationship had been awkward from the start. He was torn between his need of a companion to fight loneliness and the certainty she was a curiosity, a danger perhaps, something to investigate anyway. He never really considered her as a human, merely as the piece of furniture standing in the back of the Tardis while he was impressing her with his extraordinary wibbly-wobbley time skills. She never looked really impressed, though. She never looked at him like the others. And, well... maybe it was the main reason why he did not trust her.

As they arrived before the door of the gigantic Tardis, he turned to her and smiled. However afraid and lacking of trust she was, he knew she would come with him out of curiosity and desire to prove something – more to herself than to him. And that's how, both smiling, they opened the door.

* * *

- I was expecting you, Doctor. I knew you could not resist. You could not resist that little something in your head, tickling, almost irritating, this thing that called you here.

- Ah, you know, I am always ready to jump on a mystery and the reason why this little voice existed was yet to be discovered. Now I know, so it's all perfect ! Thank you for the trip, bye-bye, hasta la vista, see you next time.

But the Doctor did not turn his back on the Great Intelligence, neither did he try to run, maybe for the first time in his life. He knew there was no running now. That was not the first time he was confronted to this creature, whatever it really was, and he was well determined it would be the last. That thing wanted to drain his mind, his knowledge, his experience and had been tracking him for too much of a long time. Its purpose were so shallow and selfish he could not even show some mercy. He was really not in the mood for that.

- You are not running, stated the Great Intelligence.

- Yeah, did you see ? Me not running. Must dazzle you to death. Nah, that would be stupid. But still, you've got to admire the bowtie.

* * *

What remains of a timelord after his death is a timestream containing all he has ever accomplished, from the small victories to the terrible defeats. Entering this timestream could kill any living creature but the Great Intelligence was a little more than that, it was a kind of lifeform that came from an universe before this one, an Old One with powers beyond imagination. The only one it did not have and longed for was time-travel. Certainly did it hope to gain this ability by entering the Doctor's timestream and tracking him through time, destroying him everytime, without ever succeeding in its plans. The Tardis never surrendered to this thing, never accepted to let her mind be controlled by a creature so ancient and malevolent, and thus the Great Intelligence's plan was useless. Not that it mattered, actually, since the tragic results were still here : the Doctor was dead. Stone cold dead.

Clara stared at him without being able to talk, her fists clenched. There was no way back home now that he was dead but she could not even feel sad. Something in her broke the very day she accepted to travel with him and discovered that her wonderful trip through the stars was merely a kind of prison she could not escape. He did not trust her, he told her that in her face, which she thought was not very considerate of him. And now she would never have the chance to prove him she was worth a shot.

A tear started to run on her cheek but she felt no sadness nor despair. She did not really care about the Doctor himself, she only knew he was the saviour of humankind, the one that came so many times to fix things he had forgotten that sometimes they are just not broken. He could not look at anyone without seeing his or her faults and imperfections. How could he ever think of making friends, then ? Why did he long so much for companionship when he was so obviously unable to bear it ? Clara wondered if she had other companions before, companions that trusted him, that he trusted and loved, or if another thousand Claras had crossed his ways, another thousand poor creatures longing for acknowledgment and recognition when he gave them only the cold of a heart that was too old.

- You must go, Clara. You must go and save him. That is what you were meant to do from the start.

She blenched and looked around her to find the origin of the voice, only to find the control room of the Tardis empty, except for the timestream flowing in its very middle. The Great Intelligence had disappeared into the stream and the Doctor, well... time was changing and he was vanishing into thin air. Anyway, the voice was feminine and whatever fantasies the Doctor could think of, he would not talk in a woman's voice for fun at such a critical moment.

- My name is River Song. I used to be... so much. I died a long time ago and the Doctor downloaded me in a database on a planet you might discover one day. This database was transplanted here and in this very dark hour, you can hear my voice.

- Are you, like... a ghost ?

- Sort of, if it pleases you. A ghost. Clara, I know the reason why the Doctor does not trust you. He has already met you. During these meetings, you always die, you die saving him. Do you see what I mean ?

A cold, dark feeling started to fall on Clara's neck, she shivered a bit and looked around her for a way out. She did not want to do that. Save the Doctor was a thing, a thing she was willing to do, but such a sacrifice was too much to ask. She barely knew him and well, no one could say they were best friends ! Sure, they had some adventures together but not enough to justify that she jumped in this timestream to save him. How would she do that, anyway ? Would it mean she would never be herself again ? She would travel from his birth to his visit to Trenzalore, trying to fix the mess he made by throwing himself in the wolf's den ? No, that was not possible. There had to be another solution.

- I am sorry, sugar, there isn't. It is written, it's a fixed point in time. In a few seconds, you jump in the timestream. If you don't, you change the past, you change so many things the Universe itself could collide.

- Will it not collide anyway ? His story is being rewritten as we speak ! Soon, we will not remember him anymore, we will not be here... I want to save him, believe me. He may not be the best friend I've ever had or even a friend at all but he's a good man and I don't wish him to disappear, not like this. But why do I have to sacrifice myself to get there ?

- Because it has already happened. You threw yourself in this stream to keep the Great Intelligence from hurting the Doctor. I am so deeply sorry, sugar.

- What will happen to me ?

- Your existence will be scattered across time and space. You will exist a million times and die everytime, trying to save him from the Great Intelligence. It is the only thing you can do.

Clara tried to keep her crying for herself but one sob – one tiny little sob – was just too much for her to hide and she found herself bursting into tears, unable to be reserved and polite anymore. To hell with that, anyway ! She had to die. She had to die for a man she barely knew. Oh, this was so _unfair. _She hoped so much she had never met him – but then again, she would never had the occasion to travel to the stars, to see the wonders of this universe. Soon, she would have forgotten all he had shown her. The rings of Akhaten where she had to sell her mother's ring for a bike, to let the most important leaf in the history of humankind be destroyed to be eaten by a parasite sun feeding on histories... The Caliburn House where she had to wait for the Doctor hours long, waiting for him to come back as he was keeping the secret on his doings, the submarine where she had to wait again, the time she got lost in the Tardis... It was all too much.

But she had no choice. The doors were all locked and the Universe was collapsing around her as the Doctor's timeline was destroyed. If she did not save him, she knew she would have no home to go back to anyway. She closed her eyes, letting a tear fall on her cheek, and stepped in the timestream. _Be brave, sugar. You're saving the world._

* * *

A hand grabbed her and pulled her back, clinging firmly on her wrist, so strong she thought she had a broken arm. There was a voice again, a voice she did not recognize, the voice of a man. « You're not done yet, little girl ». She might have dreamt it. So much pain, oh God, so much pain ! She died a million times and she was not even done yet, it was not over, they would never let her die. Screaming and crying was not enough anymore, she had no voice nor tear to express the suffering and the distress she was in.

But this hand pulled her and pulled her again until she reached the light, the comfortable and reassuring light, so different from the hell back there. She saw so many people destroyed and crushed, so many failed attempts to save the world and, as if it was not all enough, she saw right into his hearts. The hearts of the Doctor and the incredible pain and longing they contained... How could she hate him ? He was just the ghost of a lost world, all alone in a Universe where he could not fit anymore, a Universe moving so fast and changing so much. Old creatures like him did not belong there.

She curled up and cried, unable to stop. The golden light around her, it was comforting, comforting as a song from a mother's voice. There she could cry all she wanted, weeping on her pain, on his, on the world's, she could just let go of all this suffering without fear. But something was wrong.

Somehow she managed to put her head up and to look at the light source. The Doctor was standing there, very pale, looking right in front of him and surrounded by this golden light she found so comforting. And then there was the explosion.

She turned her head, hoping she would not get hurt, and screamed of terror. She did not understand what was going on – had she not saved him ? What was happening ? Why was he... why was he exploding like this ? Suddenly, the light was not comforting at all and as she was blinded by it, she heard this voice again, this male voice that got her out of the timestream. « Be aware, little girl. Keep yourself safe ». Now that was a piece of advice she was willing to take into consideration.

When she could finally open her eyes, she found herself facing a young man with a fabulous black mane, big blue eyes and lips a bit too red. He was handsome, for sure, though a bit weird in his way to look at things like he saw them for the first time. A bit afraid but mostly curious, she managed to get on her feet and frowned, decided not to let him see how startled she was.

- And who might you be ?

- Well... I am the Doctor.


	2. Chapter 2 - New Doctor

_This one is more... you know, introspective. Lots of « what the hell is going on in this head ». _

_We haven't seen Clara a lot in the show and I just feel she's being neglected. Her character has a lot of potential but she's only used as a plus one to the Doctor and I do hate that. So : here is Clara standing up for herself._

_GoddessAmanda1984 : Thank you so much for the review and the compliments, I hope you will enjoy this chapter too !_

* * *

Clara stared at him, astonished. A second ago, she was in his timeline, trying to save him from the Great Intelligence and its terrible plans now she was in front of a new him, fully restored, looking quite cute and a bit lost, all puppy-eyes and amazement. He was looking at himself with bedazzlement, apparently pleased with what he saw, ponctuating his discovery with exclamations that did not make sense - « hair ! Oh, glorious, gorgeous hair ! And teeth, new teeth, so weird. And hands. Smaller hands. Damn, I'm small ! »

She could not decide if she was amused or just angry. He did not pay attention to her – again. She just saved his life, the whole universe, everything there was to be saved and he was more interested in his toenails than in her. She did not long for a bunch of congratulations, champagne and a standing ovation but at least a « thanks » would not have killed him. It was already difficult to admit that this man stuck in clothes that were incidentally to big for him was the Doctor, now she had to face the fact he did not care at all about her saving him. The sacrifice she made was enormous and, she understood that as he kept on muttering about hair and feet and hands, so expected from her no one even thought about thanking her. She bit her lower lips as she stepped back, trying to calm the anger and the hatred that started to blow in her. All of this for a man like him. All the pain, the suffering, the being scattered across time... And not even a « thank you ».

He finally turned his head towards her and raised an eyebrow, seeming as surprised as if he had never seen her before. Something in his face just made her ache a bit more as she remembered all the loneliness and the suffering she saw in his timeline, suffering that was right here, in these big blue eyes, in this neverending smile that was so fake. Yes, he was in pain. He had always been. But was it a reason to give him everything, her soul, her life, to make so much sacrifices ? Clara was not the kind of girl to stare with stary eyes at someone she knew did not care. Actually, would she have been in love with him, maybe it would all have been different, but she was not. She did not love him. She was not even sure she liked him.

- You regenerated, she said finally, her voice blank and her fists clenched.

- Me ? Oh, yes. Seems so. Would you be so kind as to tell me if I am still not ginger ?

- Still not ginger.

- Bubbles ! Terrible day, really, terrible day. Might I ask if you care to get back to the Tardis ?

She nodded vaguely, knowing that he would not mind her answer anyway. He was stuck in his own novelty and if she learnt one thing about the Doctor, it was that he never loved anything more than novelty, adventure and fun. She sighed as he walked to his Tardis, completely oblivious of the potentiel ennemies they could meet, as if he was stronger than anything – but then she noticed how his eyes kept on going from right to left and left to right, watching over every dark corner and hypothetical ambush, anxious and maybe even afraid. He was not careless. Quite the contrary.

That was not reassuring enough. And, well, that was still not the thanks she was expecting. One little word, just one little word, and a word that was not so hard to spit after all, one word he was not even able to give her. Thanks. She already had noticed how he was not good with expressing himself and his feelings, this one seemed even worse than the previous. As she ran across his timeline, she saw him regenerate many times, she was here to witness the changes in his behaviour and she observed him getting darker and sadder everytime. Again, this idea of the dreadful sorrow behind the mask.

It was not enough to keep her. As they walked to the Tardis, apparently safe from everything – which was more than weird, she thought – she decided not to follow him anymore. The Impossible Girl had done what she had to do, now she could get back to her real life. Taking care of the children, smiling everyday, a life of plain normality, that was what she longed for. Not that she would not regret the stars, actually, she knew she would mourn these fantastic adventures everyday, that she would cry sometimes remembering what she left behing out of pride and injustice, but it was too much. They asked too much.

A few steps away from the Tardis, the Doctor stopped and turned back to the gigantic ship that still laid in the horizont. Clara could have been a million universes afar for all he cared about her. But she saw him, though he would not notice her, she saw the tears in his eyes, the lips pinched, the fists clenched. The terrible, terrible sadness.

* * *

Every lonely monster needs a companion. This one maybe more than any other. He knew alone would never do, especially not now, now that he was the Twelfth, perhaps the more dangerous of them. He remembered the words of the Master, back then on Gallifrey when he was trialed, this almost prophecy about the Valeyard - « an amalgamation of the darkest part of yourself, somewhere between your twelfth and final incarnation ». Was he the Valeyard ? He did not think so. He did not feel so. But something in his head, something was whispering that is was possible, that he could not avoid this, because not becoming the Valeyard ever could change the past. His own past.

The huge Tardis in the horizont made him cry. He knew one day he would land there for a last time only to be buried and he knew this day was approaching a bit too far. Being a Timelord does not keep one from dying someday and as for himself, that would be the kind of lonely death no one wishes for. He did not care about the pain or the blood, he did not care about aging, but the certainty of dying alone was too much to handle.

There was no one left. Before regenerating, he had a last glimpse of her, of River. Her smile so perfect accompanied him along his death and rebirth and he felt as if she was here, right by his side, holding his hand – and then she disappeared, forever. A ghost has to vanish someday. Now he was on his own, deprived from love and caring, because his wife, this incredible love that time brought him disappeared in the datacore of the Library. Silence will fall, said the prophecy : he did not care about any silence but hers.

And that was what the Doctor was thinking, looking at his grave, tears falling along his cheeks. The loneliness. The certainty that he would never find someone that could go along with him, follow him to his death. There would never be another one. Humans were magnificent, yes, but their lifespan was so short it was more painful than helping and as for Timelords, well... Now that River disappeared, he was the last one, yes. The very last. There was not even a half-Timelord around.

As for Clara... He could not keep himself from being disappointed. Somehow he hoped for her to be something new, something special, maybe a kind of immortal creature. He even thought she could be an Eternal for a while but she had too much imagination and creativity. For a human, she was absolutely flawless, the kind of girl he would have loved to travel with through time and space for years and years of fun. But she was still human.

He closed his eyes and smiled for himself, as if a simple smile could erase all the pain. Then he turned to her, smiling even more, decided to be happy anyway : if anything, his last decades of life had to be fun and happy. What would be the point if they were not ?

- So ! Dare I ask where you would want to get, my dear ? Woodstock, perhaps ? As for myself, if I might say so, I would love to see Woodstock. Or perhaps the Wingayan Festival of Meyaphasan, it is huge, if you don't mind my saying. I _would _fancy some rock music.

The look she gave him made him shiver. Not the good kind of shivering, though, the I-am-about-to-get-hurt-again-shiver. He knew the feeling a bit too well. He patted his pockets, looking desperately for something that would distract him but nothing, nothing but this damn screwdriver that could not even work on wood.

So he stood still. He stood still and looked at her, waiting for the sentence, his teeth clenched and hurting.

- I am not coming with you to Woodstock – or anywhere for that matter. This is too much. I gave you my mother's ring, the leaf I kept for years, I did not mind when you told me you spied on my life, I coped with you being so defiant towards me, I did everything I could to keep us together. I loved travelling with you, Doctor, but we were never even remotely close to being friends. We always were ennemies. You did not trust me and, well, I would have been a fool to trust you completely. We were always waiting for the other's next move, expecting to find answers in it. I have my answers. You use people. You... you make them your puppets. Not because you want to, I don't think so, but because it is just how you do. You make them love you too much and then sacrifice themselves. I saw your timeline, I saw your whole life, and the last past years are quite explicit. This Rose girl, and Martha, and Donna, and Amy, and Rory, and River. Even this man, this dreadful man, the Master... They all sacrificed themselves for you. And when it was my turn, everyone expected me to do so. Thanking me was not even mandatory since I _had _to. I was your companion. But not anymore, Doctor, because I am not that kind of girl. I am strong, and I am proud, and I respect myself enough to say stop.

There was nothing more to say. They stared at each other for a while, silent, almost out of breath. Both of them knew it was a bad idea to stay there in the open, an easy target to anyone who would wish for their demise, but neither of them would move. It was a farewell and even if they were both used to it, it still was complicated.

And then a smile appeared on the Doctor's face, the kind of cute smile that could make people melt. His eyes started shining. He had known her all his life long, she had saved him so many times he could not even remember. So, yes, he could let her go – but with a last gift, given as a thank.

- Would you care to accompany me on one last trip ? I promise this one will not be dangerous. I will take you to see the stars in a very special place.

That was not the reaction she expected. No tears, no drama – though she thought this Doctor was quite the angsty type. He was smiling and even laughing, simply happy to take her to another place as a last gift. Really, that was surprising. But somehow, she felt it was something he would not have offered to anyone, this bright smile and this total absence of grief, so she did the only thing she could : she accepted.

The Doctor and Clara, off for one last trip, and then she would leave. It seemed like a fair trade. After all, she did not want to leave that much, she had a lot of fun, despite her being constantly treated like a nuisance by the designated driver. Perhaps she could get a better memory from this last trip, at least she hoped so.

Let's go and see the stars !


End file.
